


15, 16, 17, 18-It's Alright

by Androids_in_Metropolis



Category: One Direction (Band), troye sivan - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bedwetting, Bonding, Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Coming Out, Cute, Fluff, Gen, Kids, M/M, One Shot, X-Factor, X-Factor - Freeform, care taking, drunk, drunk harry!, years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androids_in_Metropolis/pseuds/Androids_in_Metropolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt by Emily. </p><p>Harry is stressed and frazzled</p>
            </blockquote>





	15, 16, 17, 18-It's Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily/gifts).



There were a hundred and one things on Harry’s mind when he was called over to the small group of four other boys around his age, none of which actually had anything to do with his singing or inability to play more than maybe two chords on any instrument. It did have to do with the fact that he was sweating nervously, that he was gayer than he’d like to admit, and the small fact that he had never been away from home before. 

He didn’t know what to expect, what to look forward to and what to watch out for. He couldn’t have been able to predict that life with the boys would have been difficult or if it would have been easy. He was scared for the worst, and hoping for the best as the remaining 98 problems, as they slowly got more and more absurd down the line. No one had said it would be easy. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin as someone put their hand on his thin shoulder, turning him around, and he was immediately greeted by soft, mildly concerned chocolate brown eyes. 

“Aye, you okay kid?” 

\-------------------------------

15\. 

Harry Styles was fifteen years old when it happened, when he decided to go and try out for singing like he always said he would. Of course, he didn’t think he would make it-No one had thought that-and he didn’t think it would end with him in some kind of boy band. He noted that it was kind of ironic that it was the same type of band he liked, and that now he was one of the boys he always wished would come and save him from his bedroom, kiss his tears away and then make some kind of insanely romantic though probably very silly speech about how much he loved him. He had never thought he would end up being the boy that kids dreamed about, thinking about him from their darkened rooms and wondering if by some miracle he would come to their doors and say ‘hello’ and ‘I love you,’ and now that it was clear he was going to be that boy he had no idea what to do about it. 

Sleeping was the worst part of the new house, and the new housemates. He shared a bedroom, which was bad, but it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t what kept him awake all night, looking at the ceiling and wondering what was going to happen next. Their band, soon named One Direction for reasons Harry couldn’t fathom, was doing good. That wasn’t what kept him up either (though it would have made sense if it had-Recording could be a nightmare). He was scared. Scared of the new house, of the noises it made at night. He didn’t like knowing another body was centimeters away from his own, and he didn’t like knowing that if he needed to get up he would likely wake the other person. 

Louis was a light sleeper. It was clear the first night when Harry had gotten up at 1am, still unable to sleep, and sat next to the window only to be startled out of his skin by a tall-ish blond, and slightly vampire like man walking up behind him and asking him what the matter was. He had no answer. 

Now it was weeks later and he still had no answer, though he had learned to hide and where not to step so the floorboards didn’t give him away. When you knew where to touch, they kept your secrets better than beds did. Beds always knew where to point the finger to when they were empty-Obviously the person who should have been sleeping in them. 

As time went on the secrets got more difficult to keep, the 101 things soon multiplied to 202 and soon after that to 304 and so on until it was a pressing down on Harry’s shoulders like an idea his mind couldn’t shake. Soon it would be unbearable, and he wondered what would happen then-Would he be sent home in disgrace? Unable to handle the weight that they thrust upon him, and that he knew others could hold in just one hand. 

The sheets were the first thing that slipped. 

He had always had trouble waking when he needed to, and in the new house with all the added stresses Harry found it even harder to keep his bed dry. He had stayed up all night, and he took naps. He did everything he knew how to do to make it stop, but it didn’t happen. He washed the sheets in the middle of the night, drying them and having them back in place by morning. He would stop drinking hours before he slept, but nothing worked. Soon he began to wake later, and later until one morning he was found out by Louis standing over him in his wet bed, a frown evident on his easy going face. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” 

Harry had shied away, unable to explain himself in a way anyone would be able to understand. Finally the only answer he knew how to give was, ‘I don’t know.’ Louis hadn’t said anything about it, just helped him out of bed and started to stip the bed, much to Harry’s horror. 

“Why are you doing that?” Harry asked, looking on in shock, his pajama trousers stuck to the insides of his legs, his dark curls scattered across his forehead in a disheveled way that only the bed could style. He couldn’t understand why Louis was helping. Why Louis hadn’t said anything, and he also couldn't help but wonder how long he had known. 

“Because I want to. You’re part of the family, kid, so get used to help,” Louis replied, coughing as Harry’s face went from confused to utterly confused in only a matter of moments. It made him sad, as if no one had ever offered their help for free before. Harry’s cheeks were burning, and Louis could see tears rising to the younger boy’s eyes (Weather out of surprise or humiliation he would never know) and he dropped what he was holding and wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, bringing his head down on his own shoulder, and kissing his mop top of brown curls. “Harry, this is how family works. Don’t be scared.” 

Harry learned to cry and be held that night, and for many after. Louis taught him how much being cared for hurt, and how much being alone looked like the calm before the storm at sea by comparison. He taught him how being away from home didn’t mean you couldn’t be made to feel at home, and how sometimes it’s easier to fight when you aren’t the only one on the field. 

A rubber sheet and some promises were the only things that changed Harry’s perspective, but it changed the world too. 

 

\--------------------

 

16\. 

Harry styles was sixteen when he hadn’t wanted to hide any more, and when it was too much effort to keep his then boyfriend out of his home life and still keep in his life. He wanted to introduce him to the other boys, and he wanted so badly for them to understand. 

Zayn had said hi to him when he had no idea where he was going or what he was saying, and Louis had picked up up when he was sure he was staying down. Liam and Niall had been the school friends he’d never managed to keep, and now together they made a happy little family in a nice London row house close to the tube and closer to the recording rooms. Maybe they would understand...maybe they wouldn’t. 

Harry bit his tongue so hard over dinner that there was blood as gravy on his potatoes. 

“What’s wrong?” 

‘I want you to meet someone...’

“Nothing.” 

\----------------------------------

17\. 

Harry Styles was seventeen and drunk when he finally brought Troye home. The Australian man was sober as bells at a funeral, and no one gave him a second glance until Harry slurred out the fateful words; This is my boyfriend, Troye.

Niall was the first to react, jumping up from where he was sitting at the dining room table and grabbing the surprised young man’s hand, smiling like a maniac. Harry had never said anything about a boyfriend, or about being gay for that matter, but that didn’t matter-It meant Harry trusted them enough (even though he was drunk) to bring someone home, to let them meet him. Niall had always wondered why Harry never talked about anyone...anyone special. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Niall!” The Irish kid said happily, shaking the much smaller, though taller boy’s hand and giving him a classic grin, teeth showing and eyes crinkled shut at the corners. “Harry never told us he had anyone...so, let’s get to know ya then, tea? Coffee?” 

Troye blushed, squeezing Harry’s hand, wondering if this had been part of Harry’s ‘hit and run’ plan to do with coming out to his friends, or family as he called them. Troye wasn’t about to argue though, as everything seemed to be going so well. 

“Yeah, tea would be awesome,” he said, nodding. Everyone was looking at him by now, and judging him. He could feel their soft eyes boring through him, even as Harry wrapped his arms around his shoulders and he felt his alcohol scented breath against his cheek. 

\--------------=------=-----=-------

“So, how long have you two been together?” Louis asked, looking at Troye and Harry across the table. It had been little of a shock to find out that Harry was gay, the bigger shock actually being that he was drunk and didn’t trust them enough to tell them sober. He tried to think of all the times they had maybe implied that it wouldn’t be okay, and it started to add up. 

Homophobic comments had been said, of course, and the jokes probably began to add up in Harry’s head. The boys did make fun of gays, but they made fun of straights and whites and blacks and pretty much anyone else in the world at some point. Louis shuddered, realizing that without thinking about it they had probably scared Harry more than he already was. 

“About a year,” Harry surrendered, kissing Troye’s cheek and then quickly pulling away, blushing as if what his drunk self was doing had just caught up to some sober part of his mind. “Sorry,” he muttered, grabbing Troye’s hand and making to leave the house as Niall brought the tea to the table and the other boys were settling down. 

Zayn grabbed Harry’s wrist, pulling him back into his chair. 

“No, it’s okay Haz, just stay here,” Zayn muttered, smiling at Troye. 

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, looking more than a little nervous. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

\----------------------------------

18.

Harry Styles was eightteen when everything was alright, when everything was making sense and things were okay. He had a boyfriend, a tour date, and Louis and he had been to a doctor about his nighttime episodes. They gave him some medication and exercises and now he was set to tour. 

 

The band was becoming massively popular, and soon their names were everywhere. One Direction was becoming a household name, though no one knew what direction was the one, not even the boys. Troye shamelessly fanboyed over his boyfriend, and Harry shamelessly endorse it. It was a well known fact that the two were together, and though no public statements were made on Harry’s sexuality it was something everyone knew and just went along with, like the fact that in England you may were a jumper in summer as well as winter. 

Harry’s 101 problems had trimmed down to about one and a half-What do I wear to the red carpet album drop, and will Troye need to be picked up?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my last prompt for Emily, and I hope you enjoy it:) I decided to shake things up a little bit and wrote this. I think I am done writing for the one direction fandom for a little while, lol. 
> 
> Please Review and tell me what you thought/think of my writing :)


End file.
